The Way of Light

by Constantine, Storm

  Almorante smiled sadly and pushed Tayven from him gently. ‘Fly,’ he said. ‘Use those wings I know you have.’

  Tayven walked slowly back to his own apartments through the twisting corridors that linked Almorante’s with the main palace. At first, his mind was strangely blank of current concerns. He thought about his previous life in the palace and how he had changed. The younger Tayven had been such an idealist, but he’d taken pleasure in the way Almorante praised him to everyone, making out he was so special and different. Perhaps the fact that Khaster Leckery had been such a challenge had been the main attraction to the man. In those days, Tayven could have had just about anyone he wanted. He wondered how events would have proceeded if he’d never met Khaster. It was unlikely Almorante would have sent him on the fateful expedition to Cos. Tayven’s role now would be very different. He would be embroiled in some magical plot to put Almorante on the throne, ignorant of everyone else’s plans. He would have gone through with it too, in ignorance. He’d thought he’d known everything there was to know about the world of the unseen, but in reality he’d known so little. He was no longer so naive, but the knowledge he possessed had come at a high price.

  Tayven had told Rav the dragon daughters had made contact with him, which had cheered the boy, although Tayven had not revealed the full extent of his dealings with them. The daughters had urged him to pass the elemental powers to Prince Bayard and he had done so without question. He could see the sense of it, even though its logic was somewhat bizarre. The daughters had shaped an opponent worthy of Valraven. It was to be his final test. And in some ways, Foy’s daughters were impartial. Should Bayard be victorious, they would be his. The battle was all that mattered, and it was not so much a physical fight as a conflict of souls. The future of the world would be decided by its outcome. The dragon daughters and the other elemental beings did not share humanity’s morals. They were not loyal to Valraven because they saw him as a ‘better’ man than Bayard or Almorante. Ultimately, they would work for the one who had the power and will to control them.

  Bayard had lain low since the night of the ritual. It could be that the elemental force coursing through his body was changing him, but Tayven could not guess in what way the prince would be affected. Perhaps Bayard was destined to become emperor after all. To Tayven, the future was a chaotic blur. All he could think of was that he had to leave the city and before he could do that, there were others to consider. Sinaclara and Maycarpe deserved his best efforts to free them. He knew Tatrini had secreted Sinaclara away in the palace underworld, but Maycarpe would now be out of her control and therefore too closely guarded for Tayven to free him easily. Maycarpe would just have to fend for himself. Tayven had no doubt the man was quite capable of it. There was one other, however, who could be helped at once, and whose flight from the city was more important than anyone else’s.

  Rav took his daily lessons in a study attached to his father’s apartments. In the afternoon, it filled with sunlight and overlooked a pleasant garden where a fountain played. When Tayven presented himself at the open door, he was unnoticed for a moment and observed with a pang of sorrow Rav’s young head bent over his notebook, scribbling down what his tutor read to him. It was quite possible that the boy’s world was about to fall apart. Garante, the tutor, was a strange sort, being part ascetic, part warrior: a blend that could sometimes generate lunatics. He was cadaverously thin, yet muscular. His dark eyes were deeply set beneath prominent brows and his tawny hair was almost unnaturally thick. It sprang from his scalp as if in surprise, and always looked somewhat dusty. Tayven was not sure whether the man was attractive or repellent. It was a strange combination of both. He did not know Garante personally, and knew he was taking a risk coming here. Nevertheless, he drew in his breath and knocked on the door frame.

  Garante glanced up in irritation. He had perhaps expected to see a servant standing there. He would know Tayven’s reputation, and also his face, for at one time, Tayven had been a celebrity at court. He often wished he could shed that reputation like a dried-out skin. Few people had known of his less frivolous activities in Almorante’s service, and his common designation as courtezan did nothing to encourage people to take him seriously, which had been a deliberate ploy at the time.

  Garante frowned and said, ‘What do you want?’ He clearly disapproved of Rav spending time in Tayven’s company, but could do nothing about it, since Tayven was favoured by the Queen Mother.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Tayven said, executing a polite bow. ‘It is vital I speak to Master Palindrake – to both of you, in fact.’

  ‘It can wait,’ Garante said briskly. ‘As you can see, we are in the middle of a lesson.’

  Rav had turned in his seat and it was clear from his expression that he sensed something was wrong.

  ‘It can’t wait,’ Tayven said, coming into the room. ‘You might as well know this, for soon it will be common news around the palace. Valraven Palindrake has been accused of treason. This will obviously affect his son.’

  ‘No!’ Rav cried. ‘What’s happened, Tay?’

  Garante closed the book that had lain open in his palms. Slowly, he put it down onto a desk. ‘Rav,’ he said. ‘Please go to the garden for a few minutes. I must speak with Master Hirantel alone.’

  ‘No!’ Rav cried again.

  Tayven went to the boy’s side and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘He should hear,’ Tayven said. ‘This concerns him most of all.’

  ‘He’s just a child!’

  ‘People in his position are rarely accorded the luxury of true childhood,’ Tayven said. ‘I think you know this.’

  Garante sighed deeply. ‘Very well. You must be quiet, Rav. Don’t interrupt.’

  Tayven did not remove his hand from Rav’s shoulder, hoping to extend a sense of calmness through the contact. Succinctly, he related all that Almorante had told him.

  When the story was out, Garante pressed the fingers of one hand against his eyes for a moment. ‘Believe me, I have heard the rumours about Lord Palindrake already. I have not credited them before, and I cannot do so now.’

  ‘It is not for us to decide the Dragon Lord’s innocence or otherwise,’ Tayven said, ‘but he did place the care of his son in your hands. I hope you continue to stand by that responsibility. I too am committed to Rav’s welfare. In my opinion, he should return to Caradore at once.’

  ‘They would never allow it,’ Garante said. ‘I’m not convinced it is the right thing to do, in any case. It might be taken as evidence of Lord Palindrake’s supposed guilt. Those who believe in his innocence should surely continue as normal.’

  ‘There is merit in your words,’ Tayven said, ‘but they will be of little comfort to Rav should someone in authority deem it necessary to place him under more stringent supervision. Then, he will no longer have the option to leave, or at least it will be a lot more difficult.’

  ‘Someone will already have thought of this,’ Garante said. ‘They will be watching.’

  ‘I know. We must act immediately.’

  Garante stared at Tayven for a few moments, while Rav squirmed beneath Tayven’s hand. Tayven could feel the suppressed words that longed to burst out of him.

  ‘Your training in the Cathedral Guard will be of great help in this situation,’ Tayven said carefully.

  Garante turned away. ‘This is sudden. I need to consider.’

  ‘There is no time. What plans do you have for the day? Is it conceivable you could take Rav on an outside excursion?’

  Garante nodded. ‘It is common for us to ride in the afternoon. We could do so, but in view of what you’ve just told me, it’s likely we’d be stopped now.’

  ‘You have to try.’ Tayven looked down at Rav. ‘Do you understand what must happen?’

  Rav nodded, his eyes wide, face pale. ‘But Leo usually comes riding with us,’ he said in a shaky voice.

  ‘Not today,’ Tayven said.

  ‘He might be waiting for us,
or watching somewhere,’ Rav said.

  ‘I know,’ Tayven said. ‘You must talk to Jia and her sisters. They will help you.’

  ‘Who, by Madragore, are they?’ Garante demanded.

  Tayven had no desire to enlighten him. ‘Children often have invisible friends,’ he said. ‘They are expressions of inner traits. Rav can draw strength from them.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to them,’ Rav said. ‘You do it, Tay.’

  Tayven shook his head. ‘I can’t, because I have things to do.’

  ‘What things?’ Rav demanded. ‘You are coming with us, aren’t you?’

  It tore at Tayven’s heart to see the confused blend of trust and fear in Rav’s eyes. ‘Master Garante will take you out of Magrast. I’ll meet you later. Don’t be afraid. Be sure your father chose the best man possible to look after you.’

  Garante uttered a cynical snort of laughter at these words, possibly amused by the flattery of someone he considered far beneath him. ‘It may be no easy task,’ he said. ‘I’ll be surprised if we can just saunter out of here.’

  ‘That is why you must talk to the sisters,’ Tayven said to Rav. ‘You must ask them to guard you.’

  Rav pulled a face of profound discomfort.

  ‘The sisters are your friends.’ Tayven knew Rav found that difficult to believe. ‘You must be strong,’ he said, ‘like your father is. You’ll be doing it for him.’

  ‘You are obviously speaking of rather more than invisible friends,’ Garante said. ‘What occult nonsense have you filled his mind with?’

  ‘It’s no more nonsense than your daily prayers to Madragore,’ Tayven said. ‘Rav and his father have beliefs of their own, native to their homeland. You should respect them. I know it is something Lord Palindrake would want.’

  ‘As far as I understand, the Palindrakes renounced their native beliefs a long time ago,’ Garante said dryly. ‘Still, this is not the time for a theological debate. We must get moving. Rav, put away your things. You’ll have to leave with only the belongings you have with you now. It would look suspicious if you carried more.’

  Rav opened his desk and put his notebook and pen inside. ‘Why can’t you come with us, Tay?’ he asked.

  Tayven flicked a glance at Master Garante before speaking. ‘There is someone else who needs my help,’ he said. ‘I can’t abandon her.’

  ‘Sinaclara?’ Rav said.

  Tayven nodded.

  ‘Is this another invisible friend?’ Garante asked coolly.

  ‘Not at all,’ Tayven replied. ‘If I succeed, you will see her for yourself.’

  After Tayven had left, Rav put on his coat, which was hanging on the study door. It was really too hot in the city to wear a coat, but he couldn’t travel all the way to Caradore with only a thin jacket for warmth and protection from bad weather. Part of him looked forward to an adventure, while another part grieved to leave Magrast. Why did things have to go wrong? Everyone loved his father. It made no sense to have to leave. Tayven’s story of the Fire Chamber meeting had sounded unreal.

  ‘Hurry up,’ Garante said.

  Rav was unnerved by the tension in his tutor’s voice. ‘What has my father really done?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably nothing,’ Garante replied. ‘In my view, his sin is simply that he is not here. By that I mean he has laid himself open to become a scapegoat.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Garante placed a hand on Rav’s back and pushed him gently towards the door. ‘The emperor is ill and people are frightened because of it. They think enemies surround them and they need to know who they are. As your father is not here, and has been absent for a long time, someone has decided he’s got something to hide. Come along, now.’

  ‘I like it here,’ Rav said. ‘I don’t want to go back to Caradore.’

  ‘I’m sure everything will be sorted out,’ Garante said. ‘Then you can come back here.’

  Rav could tell the man was lying.

  They went to the kitchen, where the cook was sleeping by the stove. Fortunately, no other servants were around, as this was a quiet time of day for them, when they were usually able to enjoy an hour or two of leisure. The cook did not wake as Rav and Garante stole past her, but as they began to descend the narrow stair that led down to the yard below, Rav heard the sound of people coming into the apartment. A stern male voice called out, ‘Master Garante, present yourself to the emperor’s guard!’

  If they’d lingered a moment longer, it would have been too late. The thought made Rav’s throat go dry. He felt slightly dizzy. Garante hissed an order for him to hurry. They ran across the walled yard and passed through a door into a busy service area beyond. Here, the servants of the nobles and courtiers who lived in apartments nearby did their laundry and repaired garments. Garante told Rav to slow down. They mustn’t look as if they were in a hurry. They often used this quick route to the stables where the Dragon Lord kept his horses, so their presence in the area would not arouse that much interest. ‘The fewer people who notice us, the better,’ Garante said, smiling at Rav as if they were just having a friendly chat. Steam from the laundry rooms billowed around them and they were soon hidden among the sails of wet sheets that hung from a maze of clothes lines around the yard. Rav inhaled the strong aroma of perfumed detergent. Would he ever smell this again? It was the most exquisite scent to him. Tears came to his eyes, but he forced them away, remembering Tayven’s words. He must be strong. As he thought this, an image of the dragon daughters flashed across his mind. ‘Jia, Misk, Thrope,’ he said in his head. ‘Help me.’

  A shiver coursed up his spine. It would be so easy to imagine shapes in the flapping sheets, the clouds of steam. But now they had reached the other side of the yard. Garante took Rav’s hand. It was only a short way to the stables, between high narrow buildings where diamond-paned windows, far overhead, stood open. Rav looked up and saw how the sun came over the complicated roofs of the palace and fell on one of the windows. He saw a vase of flowers, slightly drooping on the sill and a tabby cat sitting with folded paws, looking down upon him with half closed eyes full of inscrutable wisdom. Already the warm scent of dung, straw and horse sweat filled the air. Rav could hear the clop of hooves on stone, an occasional whinny, the slam of a stable door. These memories would stay with him always. It was a map of his flight, but also a keepsake. He couldn’t imagine returning, for a sense of finality and ending enclosed him, like a farewell murmured in a soft, sad voice.

  Garante led Rav across the stable yard to where Valraven’s horses were kept. Most were out in the fenced pasture nearby, where the grass had been trodden to dust in the summer heat. A stable girl was cleaning out one of the stalls, but put aside her broom when she caught sight of Garante and Rav coming towards her.

  ‘Prepare our usual mounts,’ Garante said to her in a casual manner.

  ‘At once, sir.’ She winked at Rav as she went into the tack-room. Sometimes, when they came back from a ride, she would give Rav a toffee wrapped in waxy paper. He didn’t even know her name.

  After five minutes, Garante uttered a sound of irritation and muttered, ‘What’s taking her so long?’

  Rav shrugged, but Garante wasn’t even looking down at him. Then the girl came out of the stable, leading Rav’s grey pony and the bay gelding Garante usually rode.

  ‘Help the boy,’ Garante said, swinging into the saddle.

  Rav’s heart had begun to beat fast. The smells in the yard had become stronger, so much so he felt intoxicated by them. He could smell the girl’s hair as she helped him onto the pony, the scent of horse that clung to her clothes. Then the afternoon shattered and he could smell nothing at all.

  A group of soldiers came into the yard and their captain called out, ‘Halt!’ It was common knowledge that Rav went riding most afternoons with his tutor. The soldiers must have come here directly from the Dragon Lord’s apartments.

  Rav barely glanced at them, but put his feet in the stirrups.
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br />   ‘What is it?’ Garante called back in a cheerful voice.

  ‘Master Palindrake must return to the palace,’ the captain said.

  ‘Why?’ Garante enquired. ‘What has happened?’

  ‘I am ordered to escort him to the Grand Queen Mother’s chambers.’

  ‘Now might be a good time for invisible friends,’ Garante said in a lower voice to Rav, then spoke more loudly to the approaching captain. ‘What is the reason for this? We are just about to take our daily ride.’

  ‘We have our orders. You must obey.’

  Garante had a weapon – his sword – and for all Rav knew might well be capable of fighting off a dozen armed soldiers, but at that moment, as the shivery sound of steel blades being unsheathed hissed around the stable yard, Rav knew true fear. A parade of faces flashed before his inner eye: his mother’s, his father’s, his aunts’, Tayven’s and Sinaclara’s. None of them were with him. Before him, he saw men intent on his capture, whose eyes were cold. He could imagine Garante’s death as if it were already happening: a rearing horse, a flash of metal, a falling body. He could smell smoke and the salt of the ocean. In a moment of pure clarity, he stood upright in the stirrups and raised his arms. The afternoon sun was warm on his face, and time was so slow, yet a thousand moments passed in an instant. He cried out, ‘Jia, Misk, Thrope, come rise, come unto me! I am your flesh, your voice!’

  The captain of the guard yelled, ‘Seize the boy!’

  ‘Dragon Daughters, rise!’ Rav cried and it felt as if someone else’s voice boomed from his body, the voice of a man.

  Soldiers ran forward and Garante urged his horse to meet them, drawing his sword. He shouted, ‘Ride, boy! Ride!’